


Check

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Erestor means to scold his little prince but is backed into a corner instead.





	Check

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for calenefite’s “Elladan/Erestor” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Though the twins do virtually everything together, it isn’t entirely unusual for Elrohir to show up to breakfast without Elladan at his side. He makes a show of yawning, perhaps to cover for his brother’s absence, but Erestor shoots him a look of warning to silence him. Chagrinned, Elrohir returns to his plate, and Erestor waits until an appropriate time to make his leave. Lord Elrond might not mind if his son rides home in the middle of the night and sleeps half the day away, but Erestor prefers to keep _everyone_ in line, princes included.

When he does reach Elladan’s quarters, he isn’t particularly surprised to find them a mess. He can’t tell anymore if the twins are genuinely missing any sense of order or if Elladan’s deliberately bating him. He picks his way over one pile of garbage after another, making his way to the bed, where he pulls back the sheets to find only another rumpled pile of blankets. Elladan is nowhere in sight. With a weary sigh, Erestor quickly straightens them out and makes the bed. If the twins were privy to the inspections all the other guards go through, they’d wash right out of the service.

Though he came only to find a missing prince, Erestor finds himself swiftly falling into distraction, disdainfully tidying the room as best he can. He places scrolls on tables, picks up and folds fallen robes, and kicks the discarded husks of various dishes and food towards a pile by the door. He doesn’t even think to check the attached bathing chambers—surely that mess will take another day on its own. He’s just plucked a candleholder off the carpet when something streaks out of the washroom in the corner of his eyes, slamming into him from behind a split-second later. Erestor drops the candleholder in surprise, though he instantly recognizes the strong frame that flattens into his back. 

Holding him tightly captive around the middle, Elladan purrs into Erestor’s ear, “What did I tell you about touching my things?”

As soon as he’s recovered himself, Erestor dryly returns, “I would have no need to, if you would clean your quarters like an adult, my lord.” He gives the title its due, though his tone is nonetheless scolding. Elladan simply snorts like the youth—albeit an extremely accomplished and well-built one—he is. 

“What business is it of yours if my quarters are messy?”

Erestor turns his head as much as he’s able, crushed against Elladan’s sturdy weight. Tilting at an awkward angle to catch and hold Elladan’s eye, he answers, “ _All_ of Imladris is my business.” Indeed, he’s overseen the smooth running of Lord Elrond’s house since before Elladan was old enough to hold a sword, and the fact that he’s now earned a startling array of muscles from such practice hardly absolves him of Erestor’s watch. Elladan’s hard look warps slowly into a grin. 

Then he laughs fondly and bites the shell of Erestor’s ear, earning a little cry that Erestor can’t stifle in time. The fierce grip around his waist becomes a soft embrace, and Elladan proceeds to snuggle his face affectionately into Erestor’s shoulder, sighing pleasantly, “I missed you.” He was only gone for a few weeks, but as he lets his hands stray up Erestor’s trim middle, smoothing across his chest, Erestor finds he can understand the sentiment. 

He still refuses to turn and indulge, and instead coos, “Surely you do not plan to seduce me in a room like this, my lord. I can think of no greater turn off.”

In a heartbeat, Elladan’s taken hold of Erestor’s collar, and he spins Erestor around by it, slamming him suddenly into the wall and stepping forward to pin him there. Elladan’s leg presses between his thighs, prying them open, the fabric of Erestor’s robes pinched and trapping him all the more. Elladan easily catches both of his wrists, holding them in place just next to either shoulder. If Erestor truly wanted to, perhaps he could break free—he’s never been a warrior, but he’s hardly weak. Yet he’ll admit, at least to himself, there’s something intoxicating about Elladan’s rise to physical power. 

With a feral grin, Elladan quips, “I plan to seduce you with my strength.”

“You think me so easily tempted?” Erestor manages to snort. “I have known far greater warriors.”

Perhaps thinking back to their golden-haired mutual friend, Elladan parries, “And greater princes?”

Erestor opens his mouth to tease that Elrond was twice as tempting, but once again, Elladan’s impatience ends their game early. He surges forward with sudden vigor, tilting to capture Erestor’s mouth with his own. Erestor’s first breath turns into a gasp, quickly muffled. Elladan pries him wider and fills his mouth with tongue, and though Erestor would much prefer other circumstances, he finds himself kissing back. Elladan is, despite all his cheek, quite difficult to resist. He kisses with experience and skill. He doesn’t release Erestor’s wrists until they’ve lost several minutes in one another’s mouth.

As soon as that grip loosens, retreating, instead, back down Erestor’s sides, Erestor moves his hands into Elladan’s hair. It’s still a tad mussed from his last ride—he should’ve had a servant brush it first thing in the morning. Erestor finger combs it back while finding the perfect place to grip and hold Elladan against him. Elladan finds his rear and gives it a crude squeeze that has Erestor nearly yelping. He can feel Elladan’s smirk against him and wants to scowl in return, but that would require parting their lips. 

Elladan is first to end it, though not by much—he merely shifts his treatment down Erestor’s jaw, having to tug his robes near violently open to make room to lick and kiss down his neck. As Elladan turns Erestor around again, never pausing long between one nip and another, he huskily asks, “How would Imladris’ chief advisor like to make a mess of his prince’s bed?”

Erestor makes a show of releasing a withered sigh. The effect is somewhat spoiled by a breathless moan shortly after, brought on by Elladan’s hot mouth suddenly sucking at his throat. 

The next thing he knows, he’s being shoved onto the bed, falling without any dignity, and landing atop the very blankets he just pulled taut himself.

Elladan stalks onto him with a hunter’s smile and the air of victory in his gorgeous eyes.

Erestor gladly gives in.


End file.
